Just, And Then Not
by ajc-az.jmd3
Summary: House after Kutner's death, and how he *doesn't* deal with it *not* on his own. Then there's the same scene from Wilson's pov. And then there's me deciding if I should write some more... *cough* The rating might maybe change maybe.
1. Just, And Then Not

He stopped thinking after about half an hour in Kutner's house. He just sat on the bed and stared at pictures – just stared. He flipped through them all God only knew how many times before he went home. He didn't give up, no, just went home.

He rode home on his motorcycle, so numb and thoughtless he didn't even speed or run red lights or cut people off. He just drove. He didn't think about it, just drove. He limped through the front door, his cane tapping on the stairs, with his eyes in a faraway place. No one had ever followed him to that place. He wasn't really even there, either, he just was. Wasn't anything in particular, just was.

He stood by the couch, numbly, and just stared around at his house. Didn't take any of it in, just stared. Didn't really see what was there, just looked. Just numb. And then not.

House kicked the nearest thing to his foot, realizing only as pain raced up his whole side that it was the wrong foot to kick with. But he didn't care. No, he didn't care one bit, and he dropped his cane carelessly on the floor with a clatter and limped heavily into the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror for a while. He looked in the mirror and he didn't see anything. Didn't see, just looked. Wasn't as if there was anything in there worth seeing anyway. No, he just looked.

And then he punched the glass because he didn't want to look and not see anymore. He just wanted everything to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. His fist bled. He didn't care. He didn't care and he didn't feel, only bled. Worthless. He turned away from the broken bloody glass and beat his head against the tiled wall. And then didn't. Because Wilson was there, and his soft hand was gentle on House's shoulder and House turned away from the wall and glared, hard.

"Why?" he snarled. His teeth were gritted. Wilson only blinked at him, teary-eyed, and seeing Wilson pathetic made House feel pathetic as well and that didn't even make any sense. Hate. He hated it.

"Why?" he shouted again, and punched the wall with his bloody fist, and it hurt and he didn't give any kind of fuck at all. And his leg decided to spasm and he fell and Wilson caught him and told him he was stupid and the words of the sentence clashed with the tone of it and since when could Wilson do that? House didn't know. He didn't know, just was. And sometimes, he wished he wasn't.


	2. Review Answers

Okay, so… Answers to reviews…

**emmiswe:** Thanks! I didn't used to be able to say what I wanted to without going on forever, and now I'm really proud of myself when I get my point across in a little fic like this.

**Phate Phoenix:** Thanks! Repetition is one of my favourite tools in writing. Lots of people don't like it, but I think it adds emphasis and dynamic and I use it a lot.

**Militant Delusionalist: **Thanks! Yeah, I was very disappointed in canon!wilson this episode – he was much too concerned with himself, I think. Haunting in a good way?

**Milla: **Mine too! I (almost) cried like five times! I agree. Thank you so much! I was worried about staying IC. House is one of those characters you either write perfectly or the complete opposite (my respect for Hugh Laurie is high). I'm glad you liked it.

**houselover1: **Thank you! I can't wait either. I (almost) hope he gets over himself, but at the same time not… lol

**Angst Is My Middle Name: **Thank you! It was. *sniff*


	3. Because

Wilson had never cried so much in his entire life. He didn't enjoy it, but he didn't hate it either. He wiped his eyes thoroughly before getting in his car after the funeral. So he could see where he was going. Not because he was going to see House.

It was pointless. Wilson started crying again as soon as he started driving. He cried for Kutner, he cried for Cuddy, he cried for Kutner's parents – both sets, he cried for Chase and Cameron, he cried for Remy and Foreman, he cried for himself. Mostly, Wilson cried for House. And he had no idea why.

On the way to House's, Wilson came up with about ten different excuses as to why he was there, but when he actually arrived, each and every one fled his mind.

House's door was open.

Wilson swore like a sailor for the first time in a long time and didn't bother even taking the keys out of the ignition before rushing in to see if he friend was alright.

Wilson entered House's home at a run, but stopped short. Absolutely nothing was out of place. It gave Wilson pause. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he was too high-strung after Kutner's su- death. After Kutner's death.

And then there was a crash from the bathroom and Wilson nearly jumped straight out of his own skin before racing toward the sound. He prayed to God that House wasn't in any real trouble. Wilson couldn't handle that. Not now. Probably not ever.

Wilson stopped short again at the door, just in time to see House bang his head hard against the wall. The mirror was broken into at least eight pieces and it was bloody.

Wilson flinched in sympathy, and then the tears were there again. This time they were only for House, and this time Wilson knew why. Because House needed them. More than anyone else did. He reached out and put his hand gently on House's shoulder.

"Why?" House faced him, and Wilson felt vulnerable under his best friend's gaze. Their eyes met and Wilson watched as House's anger faded to… vulnerability. It made Wilson feel both worse and better at the same time.

"Why?" House asked again. If you could call it asked. Which you couldn't. House turned away from him and punched the wall, leaving an ugly red smear on the tiled whiteness. And for some reason, Wilson wanted an excuse – any excuse – to touch House right then. Ground him, let him know he wasn't alone. He was never alone. Because he didn't need to be. And because Wilson didn't want him to be.

House's leg spasmed. Wilson caught him before he fell, and smiled fondly. Sadly, but fondly.

"You're really stupid sometimes, Gregory House," Wilson said softly. He pretended not to notice when House closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Wilson's shoulder.

Because Wilson was perfectly happy to block out the world for House when House couldn't do it himself.


End file.
